


The Good Old-Fashioned School of Lover Boys

by QueerOnTilMorning



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Richie Tozier, Dirty Talk, Dominant Eddie Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Tops, Endgame Hanbrough, First Time, Getting Together, Losers with Benefits, Love Confessions, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Power bottom Mike Hanlon, Service top Bill Denbrough, Shameless Smut, Submissive Richie Tozier, Threesome - M/M/M, established reddie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:26:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23549128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueerOnTilMorning/pseuds/QueerOnTilMorning
Summary: Eddie and Richie beam at him. God, they’re both such sappy romantics. “That’s awesome, ” Eddie says."Yeah," says Bill. He doesn't feel awesome. He feels terrified. "It's just… I don't know what to do.""Tell him," says Richie. "Don't think about it too much, just say it. Hi, Mikey, how was your flight, I'm in love with you, do you need help with your bags?"Bill shakes his head. "No," he says, and repeats it more slowly, slapping his hand on the table for emphasis. "I don't. Know what. To do. "They stare at him."With his dick, " Bill says, perhaps too loudly.Or: Bill is nervous about having sex with Mike for the first time. Eddie and Richie think they can help.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 53
Kudos: 278





	1. Chapter 1

Mike’s visit is only a week away, and Bill is, to put it delicately, freaking out. There’s so much he wants to say, so much he wants to  _ do, _ and they’ve been dancing around it for so long. Bill is pretty sure Mike feels the same, feels  _ something _ at least, but neither of them has been bold enough to state it plainly. The words are stuck in Bill’s throat.

So when Richie and Eddie invite him over for drinks, Bill’s not completely surprised that it all comes pouring out.

“I mean, it’s not why I got divorced, but it’s. You know. Not  _ not _ why,” he says into his bourbon. “And we talk all the time, and he’s coming to stay with me, which will either be amazing or incredibly awkward, because I’m completely in love with him.” He glances up at Richie and Eddie, who are watching him as though he’s a really good football game, or like. Something else that Richie and Eddie would actually be interested in. “Feel free to cut me off and start talking about literally anything else,” he concludes.

“So, uh, just to get us all on the same page… are you, like, gay?” Richie asks.

Bill groans and drops his head on their dining room table. “I don’t know! I  _ wasn’t. _ But then my marriage fell apart and he was so supportive and he  _ listens _ to me, and, I mean… you've seen him, right?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s like a Greek god,” Richie agrees enthusiastically. Eddie raises his eyebrows, and Richie shrugs. “Come on, babe, I am totally committed to you but I have eyes. Don’t pretend you’ve never gotten a boner over Mike.”

“I guess I’m just not that into super attractive guys," Eddie says with a smirk.

“That hurt,” says Richie with appreciation. Bill feels a flare of jealousy. It’s so  _ easy _ for them. All they had to do was get through Eddie’s life-threatening injury and months of rehabilitation, Richie's manslaughter trial, Eddie's contentious divorce, Richie’s coming out and the media clusterfuck that followed, and a cross-country move, and now they just… get to look at each other. Like that.

He wants that so fucking much.

"And you think he feels the same way?" Eddie asks.

"I think so. I'm not sure. We talk _ all _ the time. Almost every day. But maybe that's just being best friends."

"I don't talk to Bev every day," Richie says. "Not even close."

"I thought I was your best friend," Eddie says to Bill.

"You are my best friend. Mike is the guy I'm in love with," Bill says. "But maybe  _ he _ thinks we're just best friends. Also, whenever we get off the phone, he says 'I love you.'"

Eddie nods. "He doesn't do that with me."

"Or me," says Richie. "I think you might be onto something, Billy boy."

Bill takes a deep, steadying breath. “I think so too,” he admits. “I think there’s something here. I think we could really give it a shot.”

Eddie and Richie beam at him. God, they’re both such sappy romantics. “That’s  _ awesome, _ ” Eddie says.

"Yeah," says Bill. He doesn't feel awesome. He feels terrified. "It's just… I don't know what to do."

"Tell him," says Richie. "Don't think about it too much, just say it. Hi, Mikey, how was your flight, I'm in love with you, do you need help with your bags?"

Bill shakes his head. "No," he says, and repeats it more slowly, slapping his hand on the table for emphasis. "I don't. Know what. To  _ do. _ "

They stare at him.

"With his _ dick, _ " Bill says, perhaps too loudly.

"Oh," Richie says.

"Oh," Eddie echoes, then adds, "You've never--?"

"No." Bill feels his face getting hot. "I've never wanted to until now."

"You've watched porn, though, right?" Richie wants to know.

"Yes, I've fucking watched porn!" Now Bill is certain he's being too loud, but he can't seem to dial it back. "It's not the same thing! It's not--what if I just freak out when I get his pants off? What if I choke?"

"Some guys are into--" Richie starts.

"Sweetheart, shut the fuck up," Eddie says gently. Miracle of miracles, Richie does. "It's okay," Eddie goes on. "It's Mike. He loves you, right? He's not going to rush you. He'll take it slow."

"I don't  _ want _ to take it slow," Bill snaps. "I want to blow his fucking mind." He's still blushing, but fuck it. "I want it to be the best he's ever had."

"It will be, 'cause he loves you," Richie says.

Bill groans. "I wish I'd liked guys in college, you know? I wish I'd experimented. Even just a little." He looks down, then back up at Richie and Eddie. "Would it be weird if I, like--went out and picked up a dude? For practice?"

They glance at each other and shrug. Bill knows they're picturing his awkward, middle-aged ass trawling for casual sex at a gay bar. He can picture it, too, and it's disheartening.

"If that's what you want," Eddie starts, but Bill cuts him off.

"It's not what I want. I just, fuck _ , _ I wish I knew what I was doing, you know? I wish I'd even… I don't know, fooled around with one of you guys, back in the day."

"Well, you're not the only one who wishes that," says Richie with a smirk.

"You _ fucker, _ " Eddie hisses.

"Oh, it's not like he doesn't know, Eds!"

"Know what?" Bill asks, feeling he's missed something.

"I still have my divorce lawyer's number," Eddie warns.

"Well," says Richie, clearly enjoying himself, "while I've been in love with this hot plate of spaghetti from the very beginning,  _ his _ gay awakening had a lot to do with wanting a certain someone to ride him like you rode that giant stupid bicycle of yours."

"Silver," says Bill automatically, but then his brain catches up. "Wait, really, Eddie? You were into me?"

Eddie narrows his eyes. "So what if I fucking was?"

"No, it's not bad! I'm… I'm flattered." Did he ever look at Eddie that way, when they were kids? He tries to think back. He never really noticed boys, as a kid. Of course,  _ now _ he can see that Eddie's objectively hot, with those dimples and those huge, intense eyes. He wonders if Eddie had been with guys before Richie, what their first time together was like. Would it be weird to ask?

"Anyway, it's not like I'm the only one who ever checked you out," Eddie says, shoving Richie lightly on the shoulder.

"That's true," Richie says cheerfully. "My heart was unwavering but my dick was easily led astray. And you had legs for _ days. _ "

Bill squirms in his chair, feeling flustered. Is Richie implying that he used to jerk off to Bill? He doesn't try to picture that, but the image leaps to his mind anyway. Not Richie the way he used to know him, swimming in those huge Hawaiian shirts, but Richie now, broad-shouldered and strong, the muscles in his forearms standing out as he--

"Stop it, you're making him uncomfortable," Eddie says.

"No, you're not, it's okay." He  _ is _ kind of uncomfortable, but he doesn't exactly mind. "I just, uh, I'm sorry I didn't know, I guess."

"Imagine the fun we could have had," Richie says, flashing that big dumb grin of his.

"I'm imagining," says Bill. He means it to sound like a joke, but his voice comes out low and rough.

He sees Eddie and Richie making heavy eye contact, something inscrutable but important passing between them. Then Eddie looks back at him.

"What are you imagining?" Eddie asks softly.

"I--uh--" Bill has to fight the urge to lick his lips. Then his eyes skip over to Richie's, and _ Richie _ licks his lips. Suddenly, Bill can hear his own heartbeat. "I mean, what if you guys had like… shown me the ropes? Back then," he adds hastily, reaching behind himself for the ledge he's just stumbled off, knowing it's too late.

"Or we could show you now," Eddie says.  _ Oh God. _

"Would that… would you?" Bill says breathlessly. He can't stop _ looking _ at the two of them. Eddie's mouth, the way it curls up just at the corner. Richie's big hands.

Eddie looks back at Richie. "Would we, babe?" he asks, almost casually. But there's a darkness in his voice that makes Bill shiver.

"I'm game," says Richie, his eyes wide and fixed on Bill.

Bill can feel himself starting to get hard. "Do you guys do this a lot?" he asks, because they seem so confident, so unlike him.

"We've talked about it," says Eddie.

"In detail," Richie interjects, wiggling his eyebrows. It's kind of… sexy? Does Richie have sexy eyebrows? Is that a thing?

"We both liked the idea, but we never went through with it," says Eddie. "I always hesitated at the last minute. I didn't want to share Richie with someone we didn't love."

Bill nods.

"But we love you," Eddie says, very quietly.

"And I love you," says Bill.

The room is silent except for the sound of Bill swallowing. Then Eddie pushes his chair back, stands up, and slowly,  _ slowly _ walks around the table to Bill. He squeezes Richie's shoulder as he passes him, a gesture of such thoughtless tenderness it makes Bill catch his breath.

Eddie holds out his hand to Bill, and Bill takes it. A shudder goes through him as skin meets skin. He and Eddie touch all the time, easy hugs and arms around each other's shoulders, but somehow the sensation of Eddie's fingers lacing through his own is more vivid than all those other touches.

Eddie pulls him to his feet, pulls him closer. Fuck, Eddie smells _ good. _ How has Bill never noticed before?

He looks to Richie, who's leaning back in his chair, openly staring. "Is this okay?" Bill whispers.

"Hell yes," Richie says hoarsely.

Eddie cups Bill's jaw in his hand and angles his face back toward him. His grip is light, but it hits Bill deep inside--how natural it is for Eddie to take control, to position Bill the way he wants him. It's a little scary, a little thrilling. Bill sighs with pleasure, and as his lips part, Eddie kisses him.

_ I'm kissing a man, _ Bill thinks, and then  _ I'm kissing Eddie. _ It's a gentle kiss, Eddie's lips fitting softly to his own. Bill breathes in, tasting the dry white wine Eddie's been drinking. He likes it. He lets his tongue dip into Eddie's mouth to taste him better.

At that, Eddie lets out a low groan. The hand on Bill's jaw tightens, forcing his mouth open further, and then Eddie's tongue is pushing in, rough against his own. Eddie's other hand is at the small of Bill's back, pulling him in so their whole bodies are flush and hot. When Bill feels Eddie's hardness, his hips thrust mindlessly, grinding together through their clothes.

"What the fuck," Richie murmurs.

Eddie breaks the kiss--Bill sees his own spit gleaming on Eddie's lips--and looks to Richie, who has his hand pressed to the bulge between his legs. A wave of want crashes over Bill, so intense it doesn't even seem to include an object, just an obliterating force of desire.

"You're so far away," Eddie says, and Richie is out of his chair in an instant, coming around the table to join them.

Eddie kisses Richie first, his hand still on Bill's back, keeping him close. Then Richie turns to Bill.

"Can I?" he asks.

"Yes," say Bill and Eddie in unison.

Richie kisses less forcefully than Eddie does, more like a question. Bill answers as best he can. Richie's tongue glides over his, exploring instead of demanding. Eddie's fingers dig into his side, just above his hip, as Richie pulls back to suck at his earlobe. If it weren't for Eddie's strong hand on him, Bill might collapse to the floor.

"Okay?" Eddie asks once more.

Bill nods. Richie nods.

Eddie and Richie each take one of Bill's hands, and they guide him down the hall to their bedroom.


	2. Chapter 2

They're barely through the door when Richie is on Bill again, kissing wet and sloppy down his neck. Eddie steps back, watching them with clear enjoyment as he unbuttons his own shirt.

Richie's hand is at Bill's fly, not really rubbing, just  _ there, _ warm and heavy and present. Bill is already gasping for breath.

"What do you want?" Eddie says.

"Just--fuck, just touch me," Bill manages to pant. Richie's hand does something subtle yet devastating in response, and Bill throws his head back, barely caring that it knocks against the wall.

Eddie chuckles, low in his throat. "This is supposed to be educational, remember? We're showing you the ropes so you'll be ready for Mike."

"Oh, should I grab the ropes?" asks Richie.

Bill wants to laugh, but it comes out sounding breathless and broken. His head is spinning, his skin feels feverish. "I don't even know," he says. "What am I supposed to do now?"

"What do you want to do?" Eddie asks again.

Richie's still pressed up against Bill, one big hand cupping his ass. The sheer size of him is overwhelming, this close. Bill wants to touch him everywhere.

"I want to undress you," he says to Richie. Then, to Eddie, "Is that okay?"

Eddie sits down on the bed, apparently content just to watch them, at least for now. "Ask him," he says. "I'm not running this show."

"He says that now, but it's a whole different tune when he's got his dick in you," Richie confides in Bill. Eddie just smirks.

Bill looks up into Richie's eyes. "Can I take your clothes off?" He's never given any particular thought to what Richie would look like naked, but suddenly it's all he can think about. Richie's so goddamn masculine, so _ big. _ (Not as big as Mike, though, and Christ, the thought of Mike towering over him like this makes his knees weak.)

"Yeah," Richie says, but his eyes are soft, a little nervous. He glances over his shoulder at Eddie.

"Do it," Eddie says, talking to Bill but looking at Richie. "I want to see all of him." That seems to be what Richie needs to hear. Eddie leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees to watch.

Richie turns back to Bill. He cups Bill's chin in his hands and kisses him deeply, and this time Bill allows his hands to roam, sliding under the hem of Richie's t-shirt and across his skin. Richie's belly is a little soft, giving under Bill's fingers, and the curls of hair beneath his navel are soft, too.

Richie sighs into his mouth. It's all the encouragement Bill needs to take hold of the shirt and tug it up over Richie's head. Richie's so much taller that he has to stoop to assist Bill, and somehow even _ that _ is hot. Then Bill has his hands on Richie with nothing in between, digging into his back as he lowers his head to lick Richie's bare collarbone.

"You should suck on his nipples," Eddie suggests from the bed. "He's a slut for having his nipples touched." Richie bites his lip and groans, and Bill does what he's told.

There's more hair on Richie's chest, dense and dark. It tickles Bill's lips in a way he's surprised to find himself enjoying. Richie wraps his hand around the back of Bill's neck as his nipple tightens under Bill's tongue. Bill circles tentatively at first, then tightens his mouth around the stiffening peak and sucks. Richie's fingers tangle in his hair, urging him on. Bill sucks harder, grazing with his teeth and savoring the way Richie whines.

"Look how excited you're getting him already," Eddie says. "You're doing so good, Bill."

The praise spikes through Bill like electricity, and he  _ slurps _ around Richie's nipple, loud and wet, so Eddie can hear it. "Je- _ sus, _ " Richie whispers into his hair. Bill kisses a trail across his chest and takes the other nipple between his teeth.

"You both look so fucking good." Eddie's voice is hoarse. "Bill, come on, get his pants off."

Bill fumbles briefly with the zipper before he's got his fingers in Richie's waistband, pulling his jeans down, then the boxer briefs underneath. They're covered with little grinning frog emojis, but what interests Bill more is the spreading patch of wetness at the front. Richie's already in his sock feet--one does not wear outside shoes in Eddie Kaspbrak's house--so it only takes a moment to get him stripped bare.

"Richie," says Bill, awestruck.

Richie runs a hand through his hair, not meeting Bill's eyes. "Not quite an Adonis like Mikey, I know, but…"

"God, Richie, what the hell," Bill says. "You're so damn _ hot. _ " None of what makes Richie hot has ever particularly appealed to Bill before--his barrel chest, the dense hair on his belly and thighs, the cock hanging heavy and thick between his legs. But all of a sudden, it makes his mouth water.

"He is, isn't he?" Eddie says, sounding smug.

Richie's face is flushed, but Bill can't tell if it's arousal or self-consciousness. Maybe some of both. "I want to suck your dick," Bill decides, looking Richie up and down, drinking him in. "Eddie, tell me how to suck his dick."

Richie hisses between his teeth. "I gotta say, if this is all an elaborate plan you guys came up with to murder me, I'm not even mad about it."

"Not a chance," Eddie says. "I might be into watching someone else fuck you, but if anyone kills you it's gonna be me."

Bill feels a deep, exquisite pang when Eddie says  _ watching someone else fuck you. _ Is that what this is leading up to? God, fuck, he _ wants _ to. He pictures Richie spread out under him, writhing and begging and--he's  _ so _ hard, it feels like he's going to catch fire.

"I think you should both come over here on the bed," says Eddie, as still and calm as Bill is frantic. Bill wonders what it would take to get him worked up, to break through that steely control. "That way Richie can relax, and Bill won't hurt his knees."

Bill moves in that direction, but Richie is in his way, running his hands over Bill’s shoulders and unbuttoning his flannel shirt.

"We want to see you, too," he says. Something about the ease of that  _ we  _ makes Bill's heart stumble. Eddie and Richie love each other so much, it fills the room; here Bill is, standing in the middle of their love, basking in its warmth. His shirt falls to the floor. Richie's eyes linger on his chest, then skim down to his jeans, which are under a good deal of strain. "Need a little breathing room there, Big Bill?"

Bill doesn't know why he blushes. He's very obviously not the only person in the room with an erection. Richie's is dripping against his stomach, and Eddie has his pants unzipped and his hand moving lazily inside. They're not embarrassed, he reminds himself, and he doesn't need to be either.

"I guess I do," he says, and steps out of his pants and boxers, leaving them puddled on the floor.

"Oh, he has a  _ pretty _ cock," Richie says to Eddie, and the blush that hasn't quite faded from Bill's cheeks comes back in full force.

"Yeah, he does," Eddie agrees. "I want to watch you take it, babe, what do you think?"

"Think you're fucking killing me," Richie groans.

"Get on the _ bed, _ " Bill says, shoving Richie lightly on the shoulder. Or it's supposed to be lightly, but apparently Bill has some tension built up, and he topples Richie onto the mattress so hard it makes Eddie bounce. Laughing, Eddie reaches out to grab Bill's hand, pulling him down between the two of them.

It's crowded and awkward and Bill loves it, leaning over to kiss Eddie's still-laughing mouth. "Come on," he mumbles against Eddie's lips.

"Yeah, sweetheart, what do you need?" Eddie asks. Richie, meanwhile, traces his fingernails lightly up and down Bill's spine. "You want me to show you how to suck his cock?"

"Yes," Bill pants.

"Lie back, love," Eddie says to Richie. He obeys in a heartbeat, fingers clenching the blanket beneath him in anticipation. Bill scoots to the foot of the bed.

Bill has never thought in depth about what would make a penis aesthetically pleasing, but he doesn't need a lot of experience to know what he likes. And he  _ likes _ Richie's. It's not much longer than his own, but it's… God, the only word he can think of is  _ fat. _ Richie has a beautiful fat cock, lolling forward under its own weight, though it's obviously hard. The head is round and red and slick. Without thinking, Bill reaches out to touch it, circling the base with his hand. The skin is hot and tender under his palm.

"I like your dick," he says. When Richie doesn't answer, Bill looks up at him. "Sorry. Is that weird to say?"

“Fuck no, that’s hot as fuck,” Richie says. “I’m just kind of at a loss for words here.”

"Nice and easy," says Eddie, who never seems to be at a loss for words. "Don't try to take it all at once. Start by tasting him a little, just to get comfortable."

Bill nods, his heart racing. He braces his hands on either side of Richie's hips and leans down.

At first, all he does is lick hesitantly around the head. The tang is unfamiliar and strong, but not at all unpleasant. Now that his mouth is actually on it, the size of Richie's cock is frankly intimidating, and for a moment Bill wonders if he can do this. But when his tongue glides over the slit, and Richie  _ gasps, _ it's almost instinctive to close his lips around the shaft, sinking his head lower.

"God, that looks good," Eddie says. "You're a fucking natural. How does his mouth feel, baby?" Richie's response is so quiet Bill can't understand it, but he does feel the twitching in his thighs, how desperately Richie is trying to hold himself still. Jesus, it's been a few _ seconds _ and Richie is falling apart. Bill tries to relax his jaw.

"You're not going to deep-throat him on your first try," Eddie cautions. "You can use your hand on the part that won't fit in your mouth." Bill hums affirmatively, and Richie's hips buck.

Shifting his weight onto one elbow, Bill wraps his other hand around Richie's cock, stroking up from the base until his lips meet his fist. Eddie's right; that makes it easier. He's starting to find his rhythm, letting spit drool out of his mouth and spreading the slickness with his palm. His jaw is already getting sore, but it feels good, too-- Richie's velvet-soft skin, his dripping head brushing the ridges of Bill’s palate.

It’s hard to do much with his mouth this full of Richie, but Bill tries to work his tongue against the shaft, licking along a vein. Richie keens, and Bill does it again, slow but firm.

"Oh, oh,  _ Bill-- _ stop, stop, I don't want to come yet," Richie pants. Bill pulls away with a wet, obscene sound, feeling a strange mix of disappointment and relief. He wants to keep going, but he's also happy to postpone the decision about whether or not to swallow.

"Come here," says Eddie, and pulls Bill in for a sloppy kiss. "Mmm," he sighs as they separate. His gaze ticks to Richie, sprawled on the pillows, red-faced and sweating. "I can taste you, babe."

" _ Fuck, _ that's hot," Richie curses. Bill feels his cock pulse with agreement.

"You're telling me." Eddie's eyes sparkle at Bill. "You look so gorgeous with a dick in your mouth. Mikey's not going to know what hit him."

The thought makes Bill red and frantic. Holy shit, he wants to taste Mike the way he just tasted Richie. "You think?" he manages to ask.

"I know," Eddie says. His smile is so warm (those _ fucking _ dimples). He glances at Richie again. "Baby, if you don't want to come in Bill's mouth, how do you want to?"

"I am literally dying to get fucked over here," Richie says. "Someone stick something in my ass, for the love of God."

"That's not what literally means, you cretin," Eddie says with an affectionate eye roll.

"Less grammar, more railing me into the mattress," Richie urges. Eddie reaches for their nightstand and produces a bottle of lube.

"Can I try?" asks Bill. Is that what Mike will want, or will he want to be the one doing the fucking? Either possibility makes Bill feel shivery and raw.

"Christ, yeah, you want to open me up?" Richie leans back with his legs spread, arms folded behind his head.

"I really do," Bill says softly.

As he rubs the cool liquid over his fingers, Eddie says, "You should keep in mind that fucking Richie is like topping on easy mode. He's an insatiable slut for cock."

"You say the sweetest things," Richie coos.

"You'll probably need to go a lot slower and do a lot more prep with Mike," Eddie continues like he wasn't interrupted. "But this will give you an idea of the basics."

"It's crazy how hot it is when you talk about me like I'm not here," says Richie, and now Bill can see that Eddie's trying to stifle a smile, with only moderate success.

"I think that's enough lube," he says to Bill. "You want to start by just teasing around the outside of his hole. Don't push inside right away."

Bill nods. "How do I tell when he's ready to--"

"Believe me, he'll let you know," Eddie says dryly.

Bill laughs. God, he didn't know sex could be like this, that it could be goofy and snarky and _ fun. _ He's had plenty of good sex--it was explosive with Audra, back at the beginning--but he's never laughed this much. It feels like--well, it feels like hanging out with his best, oldest friends. Only much hornier.

"I love you guys so much," he says, suddenly so happy he could burst into tears.

"We love you too," says Richie. "Get in me."

Bill starts slow, like Eddie said, stroking around Richie's rim. The noises Richie makes, and the way his thighs clench, are very encouraging. Bill presses the pad of his finger against the very center of the tight ring of muscle--feels it pulse around him, Richie's body trying to pull him in. Instead, Bill draws back.

"God dammit, Bill," Richie hisses.

Eddie leans over Richie, running a hand through his hair. "Ask him nicely, baby."

"Please," Richie says through gritted teeth. "Please fucking finger me already, I'm _ begging-- _ "

Bill slides his finger into Richie's ass. It's easier than he expects. Inside, Richie is hot and strong, contracting around Bill's knuckles.

"Yeahhhh," Richie sighs.

"He can take more," Eddie says.

"Yeah," Richie says, more emphatically this time.

Bill stares down at his hand as he eases his finger out, then pushes a second one in beside it. It's amazing to watch, the way he simply disappears inside of Richie. The way Richie  _ wants _ him, draws him in and holds him there, enveloped.  _ Fuck _ . He flexes his wrist, venturing just a little deeper. Richie moans.

"Is that good?" Bill asks.

"Yeah, fuck, you feel so fucking good, Bill." Richie shoves his hips down, pushing against Bill's hand. Bill takes the hint and thrusts harder.

"Can you feel his prostate?" Eddie asks.

"Please don't say  _ prostate _ while I'm getting fucked," Richie says, any irritation in his voice severely undercut by the way he's working himself onto Bill's fingers. "That is not a sexy word."

Bill curves his fingers gently, searching. "What would you rather call it?"

"I'd rather-- oh  _ fuck yeah,  _ motherfucker,  _ right there,  _ yeah yeah  _ yeah--" _

"Ease off," Eddie suggests. Bill relaxes the pressure on the sensitive spot, goes back to fucking in and out, slow but deep. Richie's a trembling mess, hips bucking arrhythmically, cock leaking all over his stomach.

"Oh my God, Bill," he moans.

"You feel so good inside," Bill says.

Richie whimpers as Bill grazes his prostate again. "More, stretch me out, I want your dick." Bill reaches for the lube, slicking up his hand before pushing back into Richie with three fingers. Even with the lube, it's a tight fit this time, but Richie doesn't seem to mind. He keeps not minding, over and over, louder and louder. Bill could swear he feels his own cock throbbing in time with Richie's pants and whimpers.

Eddie kneels on the bed beside them, his pants hanging open around his hips, dick in hand. "God, I love watching you fall apart like this," he says to Richie. "You're such a fucking slut. You need to be fucked so bad, don't you, baby?"

Bill never would have guessed in a million years that Eddie, out of all their friends, would be the one to dirty talk like a porn star, but it kind of works. It obviously works for Richie, who's desperately trying to plant his feet on the mattress so he can get more leverage to fuck Bill's hand.

"Slow down a little," Eddie says to Bill. "He's getting close." Bill complies, dragging his fingers along Richie's inner walls, carefully avoiding his prostate.

"Please, Eds," Richie gasps.

Eddie combs through Richie's hair with his fingers, then tightens them into a fist. He yanks Richie's head back and licks up the side of his throat. "Not yet, love," he whispers, but Bill can hear him perfectly. "Bill hasn't even gotten his dick in you yet. It would be rude to come before our guest does."

"Says fucking who, Emily Post?"

"Is he always like this?" Bill asks.

Eddie smiles at Richie with absolute adoration. "Usually he's worse."

Bill tries rotating his wrist a little, and Richie throws back his head, his breathing choked and ragged. Eddie leans in to kiss him again. Then he looks at Bill.

"I think you should fuck him now," he says. "If you want to."

"God, I fucking want to," Bill breathes. He feels as though he's never wanted anything more than Richie, the way he looks in this moment, stretched out and moaning for it. Eddie passes him a condom, and Bill pulls his hand out of Richie to put it on--the way Richie  _ clenches, _ not wanting to be empty, is a revelation in itself. “Like this, or--?”

“Hold on a second,” Eddie says. “Baby?” He cups Richie’s chin in his hand.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to turn over so you can suck my cock while Bill is fucking you?”

Bill could swear Richie’s hard-on gets visibly harder at the suggestion. A dopey smile breaks across his face. “You fucking  _ get _ me, you know that?”

“I know, love.” Gently, Eddie helps Richie sit up, then position himself on his hands and knees, presenting Bill with his ass.

Bill caresses Richie’s hip. “Is this all okay?”

Richie smiles over his shoulder. “Fucking dream come true, Big Bill.”

“Come on,” Eddie says, kneeling up in front of Richie. For a moment, as Richie lowers his head to swallow Eddie’s cock, Bill gets lost in watching the two of them. The sounds Richie’s making are absolutely heavenly, as is the look on Eddie’s face, his eyelids fluttering in ecstasy.

Then Eddie meets Bill’s eyes and says “Come on” again, and Bill remembers what he’s supposed to be doing. He lines himself up with Richie’s well-lubed asshole, takes a steadying breath, and pushes inside.

He can’t help but gasp as the heat of Richie’s body seizes him. Fuck, he thought Richie felt good around his  _ fingers. _ This is an entirely new plane of experience. As he bottoms out, Bill digs his fingers into Richie’s hips, clinging to his last shred of self-control.

Eddie has a hand tangled in Richie’s hair, groaning open-mouthed, and maybe it’s Bill’s imagination but he’s pretty sure he can  _ feel _ Eddie’s voice as it vibrates through Richie’s body. He’s buried deep inside, not moving, adjusting to the onslaught of sensations: Eddie’s flushed face, the wet noises of Richie’s mouth, the smell of the three of them in the hot, close room.

“Richie,” Eddie sighs, and somehow that’s what gets Bill moving, pulling out slowly before pushing into Richie again. The way Richie grinds back on his dick tells him he doesn’t have to be so careful, and he lets himself speed up.

“Does that feel good?” Eddie asks him.

“Yes, Jesus yes,” Bill manages to say. Richie makes a rumbling noise that sounds like agreement, and Eddie’s head falls back helplessly.

Another thrust, another grunt of incoherent pleasure (it could have come from any of them, or all of them at once), and then Bill’s thigh starts to cramp, so he shifts his angle just a bit. With his next stroke, Richie’s whole body trembles.

“Is that it, Rich?” Bill pants. “Is that the spot?”

“Fuck, Richie, your fucking mouth,” Eddie says at the same time.

Bill plunges into Richie with fast, shallow thrusts, aiming for the same spot over and over again. As Bill hammers at his prostate, Richie shakes like he’s about to fly apart. He fucks back against Bill, making breathless, whining sounds. His mouth goes slack and lets Eddie’s cock slip out, so Eddie takes over with his own hand, working furiously as he spurs Bill and Richie on.

“He’s fucking you so good, isn’t he, baby? God, I can tell you love that dick, fucking you just like the slut you are, just like you deserve.”

“Eddie,” Bill groans, pleasure curling white-hot at his core, pounding into Richie in search of what he so desperately needs.

“You gonna come with his dick in you, Richie?” Eddie growls, and Bill can’t take it, he can’t fucking take it, they’re both so goddamn hot it’s unbearable, and he  _ explodes _ , pumping come into the condom, feeling Richie convulsing under and around him in the throes of his own orgasm.

Before Bill has time to breathe, Eddie is coming too, yanking Richie’s head up with his hand in his hair and spurting onto Richie’s face. Finally, Richie collapses on the mattress, and Bill crumples on top of him, utterly emptied. Eddie lies beside them at an awkward angle, stroking Richie’s hair.

Of course it’s Eddie who recovers first, goes to get a washcloth for Richie’s face and a glass of water he makes them both sip from. “That was amazing,” he says, kissing Bill on the shoulder blade.

Richie rolls to his side, head pillowed on one arm. “No shit,” he agrees, and Bill realizes there are tears in his eyes. Eddie doesn’t comment, just wipes them away with his thumb.

“Do you guys have sex like this all the time?” Bill asks. “How do you ever leave the house?”

Richie brays with laughter. “I don’t know, dude,” he says, “because it really is always that good. Eddie’s a fucking firecracker.”

“Yeah, I’m realizing that,” says Bill appreciatively. “You’re a lucky man, Tozier.”

“So am I,” says Eddie.

“This isn’t going to make things weird, is it?” Bill says, realizing he should probably have asked this an hour ago. “Because I love you guys, and I don’t want to fuck up our friendship.”

“I don’t think it needs to,” says Eddie. “This was awesome, and you’re still my best friend, even though you’ve put your dick in my husband.”

“I mean, it’s gonna be a little weird,” says Richie. “Because I’m definitely going to make jokes about Bill’s dick onstage.”

“It would be weird if you didn’t,” Bill agrees.

They lie there for a while. “Hey Bill, how are you feeling about Mike’s visit now?” Eddie asks.

Bill takes a moment to consider the question. Finally, he says, “I think I’m feeling ready.”

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

On his way to pick Mike up from the airport, Bill is barely even nervous. He has a plan--a good plan, carefully scripted with input from what Richie insists on calling "the Kaspbrak-Tozier School for Finishing Gentlemen." He's going to bring Mike home, give him a chance to shower and rest, and then, very formally, ask him on a date.

Bill has a daffodil in a vase on his dining room table and a dinner reservation at an expensive sushi restaurant, because that's what Mike deserves. He deserves to be wooed, to be romanced, to be swept off his feet. Bill isn't going to rush this. He's going to go slow and be patient. He'll make sure Mike knows he's in this for the long haul, that he's willing to earn it.

As soon as he lays eyes on Mike, standing with his duffel bag at curbside pickup, he realizes that the plan is absolute garbage, because there's no way Bill is getting this man all the way back to his house without kissing him.

He's so beautiful. Bill thought he remembered how beautiful Mike is--it's not like he doesn't scroll through his pictures on Facebook daily, sometimes hourly. But pictures, even memories, are too small to contain the scope of Mike's perfection. He's not smiling, but there's a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. His hair is a little shorter than the last time Bill saw him, buzzed almost to his scalp, and his beard is fuller, though still perfectly groomed. He's tall and broad and wearing a black T-shirt faded to gray, and Bill loves him so completely it brings tears to his eyes.

Mike looks surprised when Bill puts the car in park and jumps out. "I just have the one bag," he says. "You don't need to--"

Bill takes the duffel from him and places it carefully in the backseat. His heart is racing as he turns back to face Mike. "If you don't want me to kiss you, tell me that right now," he says, very fast and sounding out of breath.

Mike's mouth falls open, and fuck, Bill can't keep himself away from that mouth for another second. He stands on tiptoe and wraps his arms around Mike's neck, pulling him down into a kiss.

Mike meets him with no hesitation, his lips warm and eager. Their tongues collide in a messy rush of need and hope and relief and  _ thank God, it's not my imagination, he does feel the same way. _ Mike's lips are slightly chapped and he tastes like coffee. Bill hears himself whimper, an utterly desperate noise, and doesn't even care.

A shudder races down Bill's spine as Mike's hands, ever so gently, alight on his hips. Mike can practically cover the entire span of Bill's back with the breadth of his fingers, it's so much, there's _ so much _ of him. Then his arms (oh fuck, his _ arms) _ are around Bill, crushing him close against Mike's chest, lifting him into the air. Mike is everywhere, as strong and steady as the Earth, and Bill melts into him.

Someone is honking their horn by the time Mike softly sets Bill's feet back on the pavement. Fuck 'em. Bill is breathing fast, and he can feel that Mike is too, trembling and clinging to each other like they've just narrowly escaped death. Mike grips Bill's waist, bunching his shirt between his fingers. His forehead rests against Bill's.

"Well, that answers that question," Mike says. He's smiling, that gorgeous soft smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes and outshines the rest of the visible universe.

“What, whether you can pick me up?” Bill says. “We could run some more experiments. Results are only good if they can be reproduced.”

Mike laughs and kisses him again, which are, it turns out, Bill’s two favorite things for Mike to do. “Can we go back to your place?”

“Of course.”

In the car, Bill rests a hand on Mike’s knee, and Mike absentmindedly lays his own over it. They’re carrying on a conversation the whole time--about Mike’s flight, Bill’s editor, the new puppy all over Stan’s Instagram--but it feels to Bill like the words, even the ones he’s saying, blur into background static. The real communication is happening between his hand and Mike’s, the slow way Mike slides a thumb over his knuckles, then curls his fingers between Bill’s. Bill keeps sneaking glances at the place where they’re touching. It’s a good thing traffic is relatively light.

“I’ve been thinking about you so much,” Bill bursts out, interrupting a sentence he wasn’t paying attention to even though he was the one saying it. Mike’s hand tightens over his, not nervously but (he imagines, he hopes) possessively.

“Me too,” says Mike. “I kept wondering if--well, I guess I know now.”

Heat rises in Bill’s face. “I guess you do,” he says, “but in case I haven’t been clear enough, I, uh…” Bill hasn’t stuttered in years, but he feels it threatening to break through now. He clears his mind of everything and simply lets the words come. “I’m in love with you.”

“You asshole,” says Mike, which Bill was not expecting.

“What?”

“Making me want to kiss you while you’re driving. That’s not fair.” Bill steals another look at him and sees that the smile is back. Then Mike lifts their entwined hands and gently kisses Bill’s wrist. “I love you too.”

Tears prickle at the corners of Bill’s eyes. Bizarrely, he flashes back to the words that played in his head as the seven of them watched Neibolt Street crumble into nothingness:  _ We won. We won. _

“Oh, I should tell you something else, while we’re getting things off our chests,” he realizes.

“Yeah?”

“So, I was talking about you to Eddie and Richie.”

Mike squeezes his hand. Bill can feel his pulse through the place where their palms touch. “I talked about you to Stan. A lot.”

“Uh, probably in less detail than I did,” Bill says. “Unless you also, um. Had sex with Stan.”

There's a long pause. "No, I didn't do that." An even longer pause. “You had sex with Eddie and Richie?” Mike sounds surprised, but not upset. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

“Yeah. Well, just Richie, really. But Eddie was, like, there. Having sex with Richie. Too.” His face must be flame-red right now. Talk about January fucking embers.

Mike nods slowly, processing. “What did this have to do with talking about me?”

“I was telling them about, you know, this.” He looks at their joined hands. It’s encouraging that Mike hasn’t yet pulled away from him, right? “About being in love with you, and not knowing what to do, and, um. Being afraid I wouldn’t--you know.” He sighs. “Be good.”

“I see.” His tone gives away nothing.

“So they offered to show me some things.” Bill’s heart is in his throat. Has he ruined this before it even got off the ground?

Mike bursts out laughing. "They would do that, wouldn't they?" he says, shaking his head. "I mean, what are friends for?"

Bill realizes he's been grinding his teeth, and consciously relaxes his jaw. "It's okay?" he asks quietly. "You're not upset?"

"What, that you've slept with other people? Bill, we're 42 years old. I hope you're not shocked that I have too."

"I just didn't want you to think it meant I'm--not serious about you, or anything. I'm so fucking serious, Mikey." Blessedly, they're still holding hands, and Bill grips Mike's hard.

"I get that," he says. "Maybe it would be weird if we weren't us, if we weren't the Losers. But our friends--I couldn't be jealous of our friends. I know you can love all of us in different ways."

"I can. I do," says Bill, warm all over with relief. "Thank you for understanding."

"So?" Mike asks.

Bill is briefly distracted turning into a five-way intersection. "So what?"

"Are you going to tell me how it was?"

Without taking his eyes off the road, he can feel Mike's stare on the side of his face, and oh God, he's warm for a whole different reason now. Softly, Bill says, "It was really fucking good."

"Yeah?" Mike kisses his knuckles in a way that Bill takes to mean "keep going."

Bill lets himself fall into the memory, just for a moment. It's sweet, and being able to share it with Mike is sweet, too. "It felt easy," he recalls. "There was no pressure, because Eddie was telling me what to do, so I just… did it."

Mike hums approvingly. "Do you like being told what to do?"

"Yes." The admission falls from his lips without so much as a second thought, and he hears Mike draw in a sharp breath. "He told me how to make Richie feel good, and that was… I loved that."

"I bet you did," Mike murmurs. His thumb strokes slowly over Bill's knuckles. With a start, Bill realizes he's driving right past his turn. He'll have to circle the block. "It made you feel good to know what to do for him, didn't it? You like to take care of people."

"Mike," Bill whispers.

"Are you going to take care of me?"

Jesus Christ, that's all he can fucking stand. He pulls over to the side of the street without signaling and tries to turn the car off while it's still in drive. They're still halfway up the block from his house, but his legs feel weak and his heart is in his throat, his vision is blurring at the edges, and it would be irresponsible to keep driving in this condition.

Bill turns to Mike, who's looking at him with fire in his deep brown eyes.

"I'll take care of you right here in the goddamn car, if we don't go the fuck inside," he says, and Mike  _ throws _ the car door open. As they practically fly up Bill's front steps, he realizes they've left Mike's bag in the car, but he also realizes this is not the time to address the issue.

Mike's visited once already, shortly before Bill's divorce was final, and as soon as the front door is unlocked, he's through it and making his way to the bedroom. Bill hangs back a step for the sheer pleasure of watching Mike walk, his thighs and ass in those perfectly worn jeans. Mike glances back over his shoulder.

"I just like to look at you," Bill says.

"Get in here," Mike growls, so he does.

This kiss is slower than the one at the airport. Every inch of Bill's body is crying out for more, but he makes himself take his time. He sucks gently on Mike's upper lip, then his lower lip, then kisses his way down to his neck. Mike gasps as Bill takes the stubbly skin below his jawbone in his teeth.

"You like that?" Bill asks, his lips grazing Mike's pulse where it pounds in his throat. They've been inside for eight seconds and he can feel his cock thickening in his jeans--and even more thrilling, he can feel Mike's, too.

Mike curls his fingers around the back of Bill's neck. "Harder," he says, so Bill bites harder.

"Fuck," he groans, his voice muffled in the crook of Mike's shoulder. "Oh, fuck."

"What? What is it?" Mike pulls back, concern in his eyes.

"I've just--" Bill looks up at him. "I've jerked off about this so _ much. _ "

Mike kisses him, deep and wet, his tongue rough against the whole length of Bill's. "I love you," he says. "Take your shirt off."

"Back atcha, buddy," Bill says, hurrying to yank his shirt over his head. They crash into each other again, Bill's hands hungrily tracing every line of Mike's body: up his spine, over his shoulders, down his chest and ribs. He sinks them lower, past the waistband of Mike's jeans. For months he's been dreaming of what Mike's ass would feel like, cupped in both his palms. Turns out it feels spectacular.

"Bill," Mike whispers. The sound of his own name in that tremulous voice makes him feel brittle as dry leaves, like Mike could crush him with a breath, like he _ wants _ to be crushed.

He unzips Mike's jeans, and Mike's cock all but leaps into his hand, hot and eager. Bill mouths at his neck again as he begins to stroke slowly down the shaft.

"I've wanted this for ages," Mike sighs. "You feel so good. Feel like you were meant for me.  _ Ughh,  _ God, keep doing that. Faster."

Bill speeds up, but only incrementally, still wanting to savor this, to make it last. Mike is beautifully responsive, his hips twitching with every tiny movement of Bill's fingers, biting his lower lip to stifle his moans.

"I want you so fucking much," Bill says. "I want you every way there is, and then I want to invent new ways. Tell me what you need. Tell me how to make you feel good."

"Yeah, please," Mike pants. His breath is hot in Bill's ear. "Please, Bill, I want-- want you inside me."

For a moment, Bill's hand loses its rhythm (what the fuck, does his  _ wrist _ stutter now?) as a wave of desire and adrenaline threatens to overwhelm him. "Jesus, yes," he says. "On the bed."

Mike lies back, lifts his hips to help Bill slide his pants off, and then there he is, naked and splendid and so fucking real. "Mike," Bill says helplessly.

"You have to open me up," says Mike, looking up at him through impossibly dark eyelashes. "Can you do that?"

"Yes, love, yes." What is it about Mike that makes Bill feel like "yes" is the only word he knows? "But I need to do this first--"

He kneels between Mike's legs and just… stares. Mike's cock stands straight against his stomach, rising out of a neat patch of dark curls. It's so perfectly shaped it makes Bill think of Greek architecture, marble columns. He's never seen anything so beautiful.

"I love you," Bill says.

"Are you talking to me or my dick?" asks Mike.

Bill grins up at him. "Yes." Then he leans down and presses a kiss to the shaft, just below the head.

Mike rakes his fingers through Bill’s hair, tilting his face up. “How are you so beautiful?” he says quietly.

There’s nothing Bill can say to that, so he says nothing. Instead, he reaches for the drawer of his nightstand. Did he go to a furniture store three days ago and buy a nightstand, just for this occasion? That’s nobody’s business but his own.

“You were ready for this,” Mike says, as Bill pulls out a bottle of lube (the same brand Richie and Eddie use--why take a chance on an unknown?).

“I’ve given it some thought,” Bill says wryly.

Mike’s laugh turns into a hiss as Bill pushes his legs apart, kneading the firm curve of his ass. “Go slow,” he whispers. “Make me beg for it.”

Bill’s cock aches at those words, reminding him that he’s still wearing jeans, and he scrambles to kick them off. He runs his thumb over the tendon in Mike's thigh, feeling the minute change in tension in response to his touch. Then, unhurried, he slicks two fingers with lube. When he looks up again, Mike catches his eyes and smiles.

Gently but firmly, Bill presses his fingertip to the spot just behind Mike's balls. "Oh, yeah," Mike groans, the sound coming from deep in his chest. Bill strokes lightly over Mike's hole, up and back down the cleft of his ass. "Bill, fuck, that's so good."

"Yeah?" He works in slow circles around Mike's entrance, not pushing at all, just touching, exploring, watching the way Mike quivers with every caress.

"Yeah," Mike says. "I like to be teased."

Bill presses his mouth to Mike's inner thigh, but it's not enough to muffle the sound of his moan. Fuck, he could jerk off to the memory of Mike's low, smooth voice saying "I like to be teased" for the next hundred years. He circles Mike's hole again, spiraling in toward the center. Mike rocks his hips, infinitesimally, but enough for Bill to notice--and know what it means.

Mike is furiously hot when Bill presses just his fingertip inside. He's barely breached the rim before he's sliding out again, the shallowest thrust, followed by another and another. Bill eases into him by millimeters, even as Mike is clenching around him, trying to pull him deeper. By the time he’s up to the second knuckle, Mike’s mouth is hanging open, panting desperately.

“Come on, already,” he breathes. “What are you waiting for?”

“You said to make you beg,” Bill reminds him. “I haven’t even heard a ‘please.’”

Mike makes a sound that Bill takes several seconds to recognize as laughter. “Jesus, Bill, I goddamn love you.”

Bill smiles, but otherwise doesn’t move.

“Please, Bill.” Mike’s voice is ragged and earnest and wraps itself around Bill’s lungs, claws the breath from him. “Please give me more. I want so much more of you, love.”

“Yeah,” Bill sighs, and lets himself sink deeper into that sublime heat. Mike whispers “Please” again, and Bill adds a second finger, working him open with utterly devoted patience. He finds the spot that makes Mike throw back his head and keen like a wild animal, fists clutching the sheets beneath him, and lingers there, teasing out more and more of those intoxicating sounds. Mike’s cock is flushed and weeping, and Bill is dimly aware of his own painful hardness, but he pays it no mind. He’ll happily stay here for hours if Mike lets him.

Mike’s thighs are shaking by the time Bill eases a third finger inside him. “Please,” he says again, after only a few thrusts. “I can’t wait any longer, Bill. I need you.”

“You’ve got me.” Bill crawls up and over Mike’s glorious body, stopping to kiss his perfect stomach, his perfect chest, the hollow of his perfect throat. He grabs a condom from the nightstand drawer.

To Bill’s surprise, Mike grabs him around the waist and rolls him over, apparently with no effort--God, he’s strong. “Like this,” he says, taking the condom from Bill’s hand and tearing off the wrapper. “I want to ride you.”

“Okay,” Bill says idiotically.

Mike rolls the condom down Bill’s length, then leans forward to kiss him hard on the lips. “I love you.”

Bill watches, transfixed, as Mike carefully positions himself above his cock, muscles straining in his thighs. He’s absolutely never seen anything this beautiful, he thinks clearly.

Then Mike sinks down, enveloping him, and for a little while Bill stops thinking anything at all. Nothing exists but heat and skin and friction, and the sound of his own name in Mike's mouth. His vision blacks out completely. After a minute, it occurs to him to open his eyes.

The way Mike moves on top of him is completely decadent. His hips grind down, merciless, adjusting his angle, chasing his own pleasure. He stares, glassy-eyed, straight at Bill, splaying his big hands across Bill's chest.

Bill's heart is racing, and it's not (only) from being fucked within an inch of his life.

"I've loved you since we were kids," he says suddenly.

"Oh my God," Mike says, and Bill feels him  _ pulse _ around his cock.

"I forgot for a long time," Bill gasps. His breath comes harder and faster as Mike picks up the pace, slamming down onto him again and again. "But as soon as I saw you in that restaurant, it was-- _ oh fuck, _ Mike--"

"For me, too," Mike says. His words come in staccato bursts, between gasps of air. "I wanted you. So bad. Knew you'd be like this."

"Like what?" Sweat rolling down from his temples, he reaches out to grab one of Mike's hands.

"So good, so good," Mike huffs. "So goddamn good--"

Whatever else he wants to say dissolves into a sigh as Bill sucks two of Mike's fingers into his mouth. He tastes salt, soap, but mostly just Mike, soothing and thrilling all at once. Wildly, absurdly, he thinks that Mike tastes like libraries smell: the perfect, familiar sweetness of old paper, and the promise of a million stories yet to be discovered.

Mike curls his fingers on Bill's tongue, and the pang of bliss that shoots through him is so pure it's almost agony. He gasps, wet and obscene, licking at the tender skin between Mike's fingers. Mike rewards him by doing something unspeakable with his hips.

Moaning around Mike's fingers, Bill thrusts up into him, picking up speed. Mike speeds up in response, until their bodies are colliding at a breathless gallop, so fierce and fast Bill thinks they could strike sparks from each other.

"Bill, _ Bill." _ Mike repeats his name like a plea, voice breaking. He takes his fingers from Bill's mouth--Bill chases them for a moment, then falls back--and wraps his hand around his weeping cock. "I'm so close."

"Yeah, Mikey, fuck, me too--" He covers Mike's hand with his own, and they stroke together, building to a jackhammer pace.

"Yeah," says Mike, "yeah," his voice going lower and quieter, and the third time he says "yeah" no sound comes out, it's just his lips moving, and then he throws his head back and comes all over both of their hands.

Bill's own orgasm hits him like a freight train, picks him up and throws him a hundred yards, and when he comes back to earth he doesn't know which way is up or whether he's still in one piece.

Mike rides him through the last few spasms, then curls forward onto his chest. He sighs and nuzzles into Bill's neck. Bill wraps his arms around Mike's back. They lie like that for a while, bodies slowly cooling, heartbeats settling back to normal.

"Goddammit," Mike says after a minute.

"What? What's wrong?" Bill barely has the energy to tense, but his stomach turns at the thought that Mike might have regrets.

"My fucking _ knees,"  _ Mike says mournfully.

Bill laughs. "I'll do all the work next time, I promise."

"Mmm." Mike kisses him below his ear. "How you feeling?"

"Amazing," Bill says. "I think I just shot my soul out through my dick. You?"

"I'm so damn happy," Mike says, and Bill feels sunlight shining into the dusty rooms of his heart.

He knows they should get up, shower, try to make their dinner reservation. He should text Richie and Eddie, who are probably waiting for an update. He should talk to Mike about what this means, where they'll go from here. But right now, he just wants to lie here, warm in the arms of the man he loves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Teacher Appreciation Week! Rest assured that Bill and Mike sent Richie and Eddie a heartfelt card.


End file.
